


I don't think you ready for this jelly

by frecklesarechocolate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out Cas is allergic to strawberries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't think you ready for this jelly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deans1911 (partialdifferential)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=deans1911+%28partialdifferential%29).



> For [Chris](http://crackedchassis.tumblr.com/), who has had a bad time of it the last couple of days. Love you, bb.

 

It started out as a great idea.

It was a fantastic idea.

Actually, no, it was a spectacularly bad idea. Dean just didn’t know it at the time.

“Cas, I am really, really, really…” Dean said.

Cas held up his hand wearily. “Don’t, Dean.” Cas’s voice was wrecked, and his face was covered in a bright red rash, one that was not unlike the strawberries they had been eating earlier that day. Dean winced. _Before_ they ended up at the emergency room.

Cas scratched idly at the inside of his left arm before quickly sliding his hand back under his thigh. He’d been sitting on top of his hands for the last hour while they waited to be seen by a doctor, so as to avoid the temptation to scratch the rash that had bloomed on his face and arms.

All because Dean thought that having strawberries would be fun.

“It’s not your fault, Dean,” Cas said, but Dean knew better. It was totally his fault. It’d been his idea, after all.

Sammy had dragged them out to the farmer’s market - again - and while Sam was off finding organic apples or bean sprouts or some other shit like that, Dean and Cas were wandering around, looking at the various fruits and vegetables on offer. Cas seemed to be better recently, more willing to engage in the world and actually do things. It’d been about six months, maybe a bit longer, since Cas fell, and it had been awful for a long time.

But things were better. They were all at the farmer’s market, and even though it had been Sammy’s idea, and Dean had been determined not to enjoy it, because hello, vegetables, Dean realized that the farmer’s market wasn’t just about vegetables.

It was about food.

And what food there was. Most of the stalls were vegetables, yes, and there were what seemed like miles and miles of stands of peaches and blueberries. There were stalls with nothing but flowers, bright bouquets of purples, reds and oranges that splashed color throughout the market. Then there were the stalls with the prepared food. Pretzels. Bread.

And pie.

Dean stood in front of one stall that had at least six different types of pie on display, and before he realized it, he was reaching for his wallet, counting out the cash he had. Cas was at his elbow, examining the pies with some interest, engaging the vendor behind the table in some kind of conversation.

After much deliberation, Dean decided on the strawberry rhubarb pie.

“Fantastic choice, man,” the guy said as he put the pie into a box and tied it expertly with string. He took Dean’s money and gave him the change. “My sister makes these, and that’s her best one. You enjoy that, y’hear?”

Dean held up the box of pie and grinned. “C’mon Cas, let’s see if we can find Sam and get out of here. I want to try this.”

They searched up and down the aisles with little success, and Dean was just about ready to pull out his cell and call Sam when a tableful of bright red strawberries caught his eye. He stopped short, causing Cas, who had been walking behind him, to run smack into Dean. “Oof,” Dean said. Fallen Cas may be, but he was still strong and solid. Cas grabbed onto Dean’s hip for stability and murmured an apology. “No worries, Cas,” Dean said, and he grabbed Cas’s hand.

The strawberries were laid out on the table in an inviting array, scarlet red and enticing passers-by. “You like strawberries, Cas?” Dean asked, inspecting each of the little green baskets for the right one to take home.

Cas considered that for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t recall ever trying them as an angel, and none of Jimmy’s memories…” Cas trailed off. Dean just nodded. They’d come to an unspoken agreement that Jimmy was a “topic non grata”.

“Man, they are delicious. Add a little whipped cream and… wow.” Dean pointed at one of the tubs and handed over the last five-dollar bill from his wallet. In return, he got an overflowing green tub of strawberries. He dipped his hand into the plastic bag that held them and pulled out a strawberry, unwilling to wait. He took a big bite and practically moaned in pleasure as the juice burst over his tongue. He finished it and pulled out another one. Holding it out in front of Cas’s mouth, he said, “Here, try one.”

Cas leaned forward and took a cautious bite. Dean watched his friend chew the strawberry experimentally, experiencing the flavor. “Mm,” Cas said. “That’s good.” He grabbed Dean’s hand and guided the rest of the strawberry, still between Dean’s fingers, to his mouth. He bit off the rest of the fruit, sucking a bit on Dean’s fingers, and leaving the green stem behind.

“Cas! Dean!” Sam appeared next to them, a big dopey grin on his face and his arms laden with several bags filled with produce. “Looks like you guys got some stuff, huh?” He tilted his chin at Dean’s packages.

“Pie, Sammy. Pie and strawberries. Awesome.” Dean grinned and headed back toward the Impala, a swagger in his step. He had plans for the strawberries. And Cas.

Which was kind of how they ended up here, in the hospital, Cas covered in a rash and his throat raw from coughing and hacking up all the mucus from the allergic reaction he’d had to the strawberries. Luckily, it hadn’t been that severe of a reaction, but serious enough that they’d decided to get Cas checked out.

When they entered the ER, the nurse at the reception had taken one look at Cas’s raw, red arms and clucked sympathetically. “Oh honey,” she’d said. “Go sit on your hands and I’ll get the paperwork started.” It was a slow night.

They sat in the waiting room, and there were only two or three other people there. Cas leaned over and whispered in Dean’s ear. “Why did she want me to sit on my hands?”

“To stop you from scratching, Cas,” Dean said. He tried apologizing again, but, as with every other attempt, Cas shut him down before he even got started.

“It’s not like you knew, Dean,” Cas said with a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“But still,” Dean started, but didn’t get any further, as Cas had pressed his lips to Dean’s. Dean pulled away quickly. “Dude, not a good idea.” Cas’s face fell. “No! If you’re allergic, I mean. I had two slices of the pie and you fed me all those strawberries…” Dean’s face turned as red as the fruit in question.

Cas looked down at his lap and laughed quietly. “I liked that part.”

Dean chuckled. “Me too.”

Cas huffed a sigh. “But this part…” he shifted his hands under his thighs slightly, then, glancing in Dean’s direction, scrubbed them back and forth a few times.

“Hey!” Dean grabbed Cas’s wrist. “Don’t do that.”

If fallen angels could pout, that would have been the expression on Cas’s face at that moment.

“Winchester!” A nurse called from behind a set of automatic double doors, and Dean and Cas got up to follow her into an examination room. She looked at Dean. “Who are you?”

“I’m with him.” Dean jerked his thumb at Cas, who had curled his hands into fists to stop from scratching. The nurse raised an eyebrow, but just nodded curtly and let Dean come with them. 

“Hop up on the table, and I’ll take your temperature. The doc’ll be in in a minute.”

Cas tilted his head. “Why do you need to take my temperature?” Dean snorted with laughter. That was a question he had always wanted to ask, but the nurses looked so forbidding, so he usually kept his mouth shut.

“Standard procedure,” the nurse muttered, not really paying attention to the conversation. She took Cas’s pulse, blood pressure and read the thermometer when it beeped. “Hm. Your temp is a little high.” She made a notation on her clipboard, and Dean saw that she had written down 100.2.

“Uh, he’s always run a little warm,” Dean said quickly. He elbowed Cas, who nodded.

“Yes. It uh… yes, I’m usually quite hot.” Cas widened his eyes and looked at the nurse with an expression that he hoped was guileless. Dean did his best not to burst into laughter again. The nurse gave Cas a skeptical look, but made another note on her chart, and then bustled to the door.

“The doc will be in soon. You just sit tight.” She opened the door, but turned around and pointed a threatening finger at Cas just before she left. “And don’t scratch.”

Cas nodded solemnly, but when she shut the door behind herself, the miserable kicked puppy look returned to his face. Dean’s insides sank even lower. This was all his fault, and there was nothing he could do about it. He sighed heavily and tried to look interested in the various posters of human anatomy that covered the walls in the room. He soon regretted that decision. Instead, he returned his attention to Cas, who was fidgeting, but doing his best not to scratch again.

Dean began to rub soothing circles into Cas’s back, and Cas leaned into the touch, his eyes closing.

After what seemed like a very long time, the door opened again, and a young woman in green scrubs and a white lab coat came in. She was examining the chart in front of her and not really paying attention to the inhabitants of the room. “All right, Mr. Winchester, let’s see…oh.” She stopped when she saw there were two people in the room. “I’m sorry, do I have the right room? Castiel Winchester?”

“Yes. This is my…” Cas hesitated. “My Dean.” They hadn’t really actually defined what they were to each other, and so every time that Cas had to introduce Dean to others, he always had that awkward hesitation before he just skipped ahead to Dean’s name. The doctor didn’t seem to notice, washing her hands and snapping on a pair of latex gloves.

“Fine, fine. I’m Dr. Abrams. Let’s see what we can see.” She examined the skin on Cas’s arms and face, making soft humming noises as she went. “Tell me what you ate today.”

Cas listed the foods, ending with the strawberries. The doctor nodded as if she’d expected that information.

“Have you had an allergic reaction to strawberries before?”

Cas shook his head. “I’m not allergic to anything.”

“All evidence to the contrary, Mr. Winchester. It’s unusual to see such a strong reaction the first time it manifests, though. How many did you have before the reaction began.”

“Dean?” Cas asked, looking at Dean.

“Umm. I don’t remember. We shared the little basketful. They were kind of medium-sized? So maybe 15 total? So he had probably 7 or 8?”

The doctor’s eyebrows raised to her hairline, but she didn’t remark on what Dean had said. “Mr. Winchester, I’m going to give you a prescription for a steroidal cream for your rash. You should take an antihistamine and get a good nights rest.” She turned on Dean. “And you. If you two are going to be fooling around, you can’t eat anymore strawberries either.”

“What?” Dean spluttered.

The doctor just looked at Dean. “Please.” She scrawled something on a prescription pad and tore off the paper with a flourish, handing it to Dean. “Take care of him. And no more strawberries, all right?” Cas nodded. “Good.” She snapped off her gloves and left the room.

Dean hustled Cas out of the room and the hospital, making a quick stop at the pharmacy on the way. They filled Cas’s prescription and bought some Benadryl before heading back to the bunker. Cas looked even more miserable than ever, his right eye twitching from the effort of trying not to scratch or rub his arms against anything that had any kind of rough surface. Dean ushered Cas into his room and shut the door on Sam’s expressions of concerns.

“Strip,” Dean ordered, and Cas obeyed without even batting an eyelash. Dean filled a glass with water and meted out a dose of the antihistamine, both of which he handed to Cas. “Swallow these. I’m going to put the cream on for you, and then you’re going to sleep, okay?” Cas just nodded. He did as he was told, while Dean washed his hands thoroughly before picking up the small tube of cream. He read the instructions over twice and then squeezed a small amount out on his palm.

“Turn around Cas,” Dean said softly. Cas complied, and Dean sucked in a breath when he saw the raw redness of Cas’s back. Dean warmed up the lotion a bit between his hands and began to massage it into Cas’s skin. Cas let out a soft sigh when Dean first touched Cas, and then was quiet through the rest of Dean’s ministrations.

Dean finished as quickly as he could, ending with Cas’s face. He cupped Cas’s cheeks in his palms. “I am sorry, Cas. We’ll have to be more careful in the future.”

Cas nodded slowly, his reaction time dulled by the medication, which was kicking in. He swayed into Dean.

“Oops. Okay, let me get you something to sleep in, and then I’ll tuck you in.” Dean pulled a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt out of the dresser and helped Cas into them. Cas was drooping now, nearly asleep on his feet. Dean steered Cas toward the bed and pushed him gently down onto the bed. He pulled the blanket over Cas. “See you in the morning, Cas.”

Dean turned away, but Cas reached out and grabbed Dean’s wrist. “Stay,” Cas mumbled.

“Cas, you need to sleep.”

Cas gripped Dean’s wrist tighter and frowned. “Sleep better if you stay,” Cas slurred. He tried to pull Dean toward the bed, but the overexcitement of the day and the medication had sapped him of his strength.

Dean sighed. “Okay. I just need to wash up and get changed. I’ll be back. Promise.” He tugged gently and Cas released him.

Dean showered and brushed his teeth, taking great care to wash as much as he could so he wouldn’t make Cas’s reaction worse. When he got back to Cas’s room, the angel was fast asleep, snoring to beat the band, arms and legs flung wide across the bed.

Dean slid between the sheets and curled an arm around Cas’s waist, pulling him closer. Cas mumbled something in his sleep, and he rolled over, burying his face in Dean’s neck. 

“Yeah, me too, Cas. Me too.” He kissed the top of Cas’s head and closed his eyes. No more feeding each other strawberries and cream then.

That changed several of Dean’s fantasies.

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on my [Tumblr](deanhugchester.tumblr.com) and LiveJournal.


End file.
